


Overwork

by Coshledak, raisingmybanner



Series: get myself back home [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 06:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coshledak/pseuds/Coshledak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisingmybanner/pseuds/raisingmybanner
Summary: Modern Setting, High School Adashi.Shortly after Shiro is diagnosed, Adam starts to adjust to their new circumstances and how his boyfriend's illness affects their lives. Unfortunately, Shiro isn't nearly as willing to admit that things are different now.





	Overwork

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place before Keith is fostered by Shiro's family!

It’s been a month and a half since Takashi received his diagnosis. At first, Adam wasn’t sure what to do with the information or how to take it, so he played it by ear and watched Takashi for any cues of where he should go from there. 

Apparently, Takashi didn’t need much.

Adam had been doing his best to research the diagnosis, but there isn’t a lot of information out there. He supposes his first clue that something wasn’t quite right should have come when he tried to get some of his questions answered by Takashi, but Takashi didn’t have any answers to give.

“I didn’t ask,” Takashi replies easily, shrugging and closing his locker door. “I’ll try to remember next time I have an appointment, okay?”

At the time, all Adam could do was watch Takashi’s back as he walked away, dumbfounded. That just wasn’t _like_ Takashi. It isn’t like him. But he’s tried to let it go and move on. Takashi carried on as though nothing had changed, so Adam figures it’s alright for him to do the same.

It’s taken a while, though, for things to reach the point that he’s started noticing again. It’s taken a while for him to get to the point of realizing that things aren’t the same as they used to be. He’s been avoiding acknowledging it because he wants to believe that everything is the same as it was. Takashi is sick, but that doesn’t mean things have to _change._

But they have, haven’t they?

“I’m pretty sure the drama club didn’t mean they wanted _you_ to paint their backdrops,” he says, leaning on the lockers next to Takashi’s. He’s trying not to frown, but he can’t help it. “They just wanted you to find volunteers.”

“I have the time.”

“You don’t have the artistic talent.” He says it to make a point, but Takashi laughs as he moves things around in his locket looking for his history book. Adam wants to tip forward into that laugh, but he stops himself.

“It’s just painting the flats,” Takashi explains. “No artistic talent needed.”

“Then I’ll stay after with you,” he insists. 

Takashi hesitates, but then smiles at him and nods. “Okay. I’d like the help.”

 _Then why didn’t you ask for it?_ Adam doesn’t say, just waits for Takashi to finish and close his locker.

—

Helping with the drama club becomes the tip of an iceberg that Adam can’t begin to estimate. Or maybe he’s just too afraid to see how deep into the icy depths it goes.

Takashi has always been an overachiever. He’s always worked hard to help others. It’s why he’s on the student council every year and has expanded the role even in his first year as freshman class president. He’s only done more with it since becoming a junior. But he’s always been careful about not taking on too much. A large part of that has to do with Adam’s delegation, though. He’s done his best to make sure the tasks that need to be done are filtered through him before they get to Takashi in the first place. 

So when less and less forms for volunteers start coming across his desk, it raises some flags. He knows their classmates and this school. They aren’t _this_ efficient, and even if they magically got that efficient over night the staff is always asking for help with little things. So where are half of his volunteer requests going?

Student council members always get study hall at the end of the day so they can have their meetings and collaborate, but not every day of the week needs to be a meeting. During the days that aren’t meetings they end up using it as an actual study hall or doing the more one-on-one aspects of their student council work. He is both disappointed and unsurprised not to see Takashi in their class sponsor’s room when he gets there.

“Mrs. Englehart, where’s Takashi?”

Clearly a bit frazzled by this halfway point between winter break and the end of the year, Mrs. Englehart looks at him in a way that Adam knows she needs a minute to process two things: Who he is and what he asked. But she gets there.

“Adam, dear,” she says, but that’s more for herself. “I believe he went to help out in the library for this afternoon.”

“May I go?”

“Of course,” she replies, tucking a few stray chunks of hair back behind her ear with a smile. “I half thought you might be going there yourself anyway. You and Takashi are never that far apart.”

“He’s been a few steps ahead of me, lately,” he replies, meaning it to sound like a joke. It doesn’t _feel_ like one. “Thank you.”

He takes his leave, making a straight path for the library. He’s stopped once by a teacher—a new one this year—who asks for his hall pass. Adam ends up showing him the student ID he wears and explaining that he’s the junior class vice president for about five minutes before the teacher relents with a satisfactory answer to his ‘Where are you going and why?’ question.

There’s a smattering of students sitting around the library when he gets there, most of them clicking away at things on the computer or hunched over homework—or things that look convincingly enough like homework to the librarian—at tables. Granted, Adam isn’t sure how much attention he’s paying to them anyway because he’s standing in one of the isles, pointing at the books and giving instructions to someone crouched out of sight to Adam.

Adam’s made it about halfway over when Takashi stands up suddenly, having been the person receiving the instructions. He’s looking at Mr. Ren so he doesn’t even notice Adam until he’s stepped up practically next to them.

“Mr. Wohali,” Mr. Ren smiles. “Come to join the fun?”

Adam pushes a smile onto his face. “Yeah, well. I figured Takashi shouldn’t be the only one here helping out.”

“Great. I was just telling Mr. Shirogane about how we’re rearranging the books, so you’re just in time.”

Mr. Ren walks them through the new organization system for the library. He has his own library aids, who have done most of the work already, but he needed a few more people willing to stay after school hours to get the last of it taken care of. Testing starts soon, and he doesn’t want the library in disarray for that since it’s one of the testing areas.

It doesn’t take too long for Adam to get the gist, and soon they’re left alone to stack books and carry them over to the other set of empty shelves waiting to be burdened with glorious fiction.

“I didn’t know the library needed volunteers,” Adam says, pulling books off the shelf and stacking them.

“Mr. Ren came to the room yesterday to ask for a volunteer request form and you were talking with Mrs. Englehart about the prom budget,” Takashi responds easily. Why wouldn’t he respond easily? He doesn’t have any reason not to.

“The forms are in the student council drawer, Takashi. And I have copies in the folder on my desk.”

“I know,” Takashi answers, picking up his stack. “But I knew I was available tonight and I thought it would help kill time, that way I don’t have to drive home and come back later.”

“Wait,” Adam says, hastily picking up his own stack to follow after Takashi as he heads over to the empty shelves. “What do you mean ‘come back later’?”

“You know after their spring production budget is met, the drama club always gets a little lazy with helping with concessions,” Takashi nudges, and Adam absolutely knows that. 

“Yeah,” Adam agrees. “But what does that have to do with—” Then it clicks. “Did you volunteer to help with concessions at tonight’s game?”

“Yeah.”

Adam looks at Takashi pointedly, but Takashi keeps lining books up on the shelves. He doesn’t need to look at what he’s doing, but Adam knows he’s doing it on purpose. He’s avoiding looking at him on purpose, but Adam doesn’t look away. Eventually Takashi’s shoulders drop a little and he heaves a sigh, turning to look at him.

“What?” Takashi frowns. “Adam, I was going to the game anyway—”

“Sitting in the stands is a lot different than working concessions, Takashi,” he says, pointedly.

“We only work before, after, and during half-time,” Takashi says, and Adam tries to take that as some consolation. It might have worked, too, if he didn’t keep going. “I’ll still be able to watch you play.”

Something ugly rises in Adam then, so fast and so hard that he almost chokes on it. He knows exactly what it is, the only problem is that usually his anger is aimed at _other people._ Not at Takashi. Not this kind of anger.

He slams the book he was placing a little harder on the shelf than necessary. That gets Takashi’s attention, at least. He looks around, takes note that they aren’t in any immediately visible spot, and then leans closer so he can lower his voice. “Do you think _that’s_ what’s bother me? That you’ll be too busy to watch me play? _Seriously,_ Takashi?”  
Takashi’s eyes bounce, flicking between his, searching. Adam doesn’t know what he’s looking for, which means he also doesn’t know if Takashi is going to find it. That seems to only escalate Takashi’s confusion.

“Sorry. I just didn’t see any other problem with it.” Takashi pulls his wrist away and Adam lets him. He hates himself enough for getting physical with him at all. Adam sighs.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Adam continues. “First staying late to help with the drama club, then helping to reorganize all the class storage closets, the community park clean up, staying late to work on everything with prom—now the library and concessions. That’s _with_ all the early morning student council meetings, student-faculty meetings, and getting your homework done. You’re doing _too much._ ”

Takashi laughs a little, but it’s not really a laugh. It catches weird in his throat. “Adam, I’m fine. Really.”

“You keep saying you have headaches, and I can tell you’re in pain in class—” Takashi’s hands find his shoulders. Not harsh or rough or really anything other than how he would normally touch him, but Adam stops and looks at him. He hopes he sees some kind of acknowledgement.

“It’s _nothing._ I’m okay.”

Instead he gets a reassuring smile, Takashi’s hands squeezing his shoulders, then falling away as he turns back to get another stack of books. The stack Adam’s still holding feels far heavier than it did before.

—

“Want something to drink?” Takashi asks, standing beside the couch with two paper plates destined for the garbage. There are two empty soda cans balanced on top of them, but those are destined for the recycling bin.

“Sure. Water?”

“Sounds good.”

Adam turns his head a bit to watch Takashi head into the kitchen before looking back at the television. It’s not like he’s missing anything, since he’s seen this movie more times than he can count. That has everything to do with him and nothing to do with Takashi, though. He’s always been kind of particular about movies. 

Though they spent some time earlier in the evening watching newer releases, inevitably they end up falling back to one pulled from the rotating catalogue he likes. It’s not like it’s a small catalogue, exactly, but he and Takashi have both seen them multiple times in the years they’ve known each other.

That makes them the perfect background sound, though. He doesn’t have to pause to wait for Takashi to get back.

Honestly, he’s just glad that they’re here. After the almost-fight in the library, he and Takashi had spent a few days feeling more distant than he’s used to. Eventually he apologized for snapping at him, and Takashi apologized for worrying him. They talked and Takashi agreed to slow down a little bit, which led to the suggestion of a movie night. Takashi’s parents were going to be out with some friends anyway, and he doesn’t have a game.

It seemed like the perfect suggestion, and so far he doesn’t regret it.

The attention he’s giving to the movie is just enough that he notices it—hears it—when the sound of aluminum hitting tile comes from the kitchen. Tension pulls through his shoulders and he sits up, twisting on the couch to look towards the kitchen.

“Takashi?”

“I’ve got it!” He calls back, but Adam thinks he can hear some strain in his tone. It’s hard to tell for sure, though, since his mind is now set to concern.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Skeptical, Adam relaxes back into the couch but keeps an ear out. He hears the ice dispenser in the fridge and then the sound of the fridge door opening so Takashi can get to the filtered water inside. Then comes the steady gate. Takashi doesn’t tend to shuffle, even through his own house, so it’s easier to hear him coming.

Adam immediately notices him holding one of the cups to the side of his head and frowns. A buzz rises into his ears as he sits up straighter.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a headache,” Takashi confesses, quietly, setting one of the cups on the table. The buzzing stops and Adam realizes it wasn’t an internal one but external: Takashi’s hands are shaking, rattling the ice in the glass he was carrying.

“Hold on,” Adam says, reaching out to help him sit. “I’ll get your meds.”

“Thanks,” Takashi breathes, relaxing back into the couch. The humor center of Adam’s brain almost wants to point out it must be bad if Takashi isn't even going to argue that he can get them. But it’s one of those thoughts that doesn’t reach his mouth because the rest of him snuffs it out like an off-color joke in a group of people who are the punchline.

He pushes himself up once Takashi is sitting and heads over to the messenger bag he left hanging by the coat rack. Should a seventeen year old be carrying prescription muscle relaxers and pain medication? No. But Adam’s arguably done a lot of things he shouldn’t have done when it comes to Takashi’s health.

“How long have you been tight?” He asks, standing next to him as he taps the pills into his palm. He’s got the dosage memorized.

“About an hour,” Takashi answers, using his hand to balance his cup on his thigh. Adam can already see that risk not paying off, but he doesn’t have a free hand yet. “I thought it might just go away on its own if I waited it out.”

“ _Takashi—_ ”

“I know, I know.” Takashi meets the worried disapproval with a tone of humble guilt. “It was stupid. I know it…it doesn’t work like that.” Adam hears a whisper from some time long passed but not forgotten, and it adds a morose _Anymore_ to the end of Takashi’s sentence.

He takes a seat next to him, “Can you do it if I hand you the pills?”“Yeah.”

And he can. 

Adam watches him take the pills and bring them up to his mouth, not dropping one. The problem comes with the glass in his hand, which starts shaking worse when he tries to lift it. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t make Takashi say he needs help, he just reaches over to help him move it up to his mouth. He follows his lead when he pulls the glass away, until Takashi finally relents his hold so he can set it on the table. 

Takashi presses himself back into the couch a little more and Adam reaches over, resting his hand on top of his. He gives it a slight squeeze, and Takashi’s fingers are gentle as they curl around his hand a bit.

“Do you want me to rub your shoulders?”

“I think it would hurt,” Takashi answers, grimacing a bit just at the thought. Adam isn’t bothered. That happens sometimes. The muscles are too tight and it doesn’t feel good. Not until the relaxers kick in. “Maybe I could just lay down?”

He nods. “You got it.”

Scooting to the end of the couch, Adam lets Takashi move in slow, stilted motions to stretch out on the couch. He reaches over when he starts to ease himself back, holding some of his weight until Takashi can relax his head and shoulders onto his lap. He tries to help him shift and settle. Though he thinks it’ll be pain and exhaustion that gets him to stop more than comfort, Adam doesn’t ask.

When Takashi finally falls still, Adam brushes the longer section of his hair away from his face. Takashi’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing a little heavy, more obvious signs of tension occasionally showing through as he lays there and tries to catch his breath. It’s more labored than it should be, Adam knows. He only wishes he knew something to do about it.

“Better?” He asks, softly.

“A little,” Takashi replies, cracking open an eye to smile at him slightly. Despite himself, Adam can see the pain beyond the brave face. He’s seen Takashi’s brave face enough to know where to look for the holes. “Sorry.”

“Just tell me when you start getting tense,” Adam says, a little chastising. He hates talking to him like that, Takashi isn’t a _child_ that he needs to scold. But he is, apparently, a boyfriend he needs to scold. “Don’t wait until it gets bad. You aren’t doing either of us any favors.”

“Guess I’m just not ready to admit I’m sick,” Takashi murmurs, quiet and with more gravity than he’d been expecting. 

Adam reaches down for one of his hands, threading their fingers together and moving it so it rests comfortably on Takashi’s chest. He squeezes his hand gently but mostly just holds it, using his other hand to brush through Takashi’s hair as he closes his eyes again and breathes.

“It’s only been five months,” Adam says after he’s found the words. It takes him a while, but he and Takashi have never minded the quiet. 

“That hasn’t stopped everyone else. _You_ have my dosages memorized already,” he says, trying to sound light but there’s a weight to his words that latch onto Adam’s heart and drag it through his chest.

“Me—everyone else—we aren’t _sick,_ Takashi. We aren’t adjusting to anything.”

Takashi squeezes his hand a little bit and for a moment Adam thinks he might have accidentally struck a chord he didn’t mean to strike. He squeezes his hand back, brushing his thumb against it slowly. He knows he’s trying to coax Takashi a little but he doesn’t know what he’s trying to coax him towards or away from.

Adam puts his hand over Takashi’s eyes gently, the free one that he was running through his hair. He just covers his eyes carefully, speaking low and quiet. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Takashi exhales, his voice shaky and shallow. Adam wants to tell him he doesn’t have to hold himself together, but that’s not news. Takashi _knows_ he doesn’t have to hold himself together around him. Which means if he’s trying, then he’s doing it for himself. Because he needs to. “I’ve toughed through things so often and usually they all work out. I keep thinking that maybe this will be the same…but it’s not. It’s _not,_ Adam.”

Moisture presses at the heel of Adam’s hand, then at his fingertip, and he lets it. He lets it because there’s nothing else he can do. There’s need in Takashi’s grip, but not a lot of power. Not a lot of strength. Just woven desperation that’s doing everything it can to keep him where he is.

“I know. I’m sorry, Takashi,” Adam says, because he pauses to look for words and those are the ones that come to him. “But…I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Nothing will change Takashi’s diagnosis. Nothing will erase the coding in his body that’s made him sick. Words won’t erase it, and neither will actions. That doesn’t stop Adam from reading every article about this disease there is. That doesn’t stop him from doing everything he can to make Takashi comfortable and happy. 

But it does stop him from making promises they both know can’t be kept. It does stop him from pushing aside Takashi’s fear and pain.

At some point, Takashi rolls over on his lap, pressing his face into his stomach. His shoulders shake for a while, trembling with the weight of the moisture that’s soaking through his shirt. But Adam just runs his hand along his side slowly, until the tremors ease and Takashi falls asleep. Probably without meaning to, but Adam makes no motion to wake him. 

After all, Takashi slowing down is all he’s wanted for the past five months.

—

They’re getting towards the end of the school year, which means a lot of meetings of the student council are just a mixture of requirement and making sure that they’re ready for next year. Though he and Takashi have already been voted in as president and vice president and the treasurer could stay on, their secretary would be doing a lot of work in her senior year that removed the time needed to be on student council. That meant acclimating a new one.

Mostly, Adam has been struggling to teach him how to properly take minutes for the meeting. Thankfully, he seems very willing to learn if not just a little unaware of what he does and doesn’t have to document. The weeks leading up towards their final meeting have been…tumultuous. But as he leans over to peek at his notes and sees that, aside from a few errant and unnecessary details, he seems to be getting it under control.

“So it’s agreed,” Takashi says, standing at the front of the classroom and behind the teacher’s podium. “We’ll give about a fourth of our funds to the junior class towards next year’s prom and save the rest for the senior trip.”

Takashi writes a few things down, probably just making notes to himself though anything to do with the budget is really the treasurer’s responsibility.

Jack leans over, tapping Adam with the end of his pen. “Do I have to write down that he wrote down something?”

Adam sighs. “No. Remember, motions are just _suggestions._ It doesn’t mean movement.”

“Oh! Right.”

When Adam looks back up he startles a bit to find Takashi looking, and smiling, right at him. He smiles back and gives a playful roll of his eyes.

“Okay, next—”

Adam jumps up as the podium starts to wobble a bit, catching it before it tips and standing so Takashi loses his balance right against him. The metal feet of metal desks scrape against the linoleum as the rest of the council jumps up, surprised.

“Shiro?” The treasurer.“Hey, is he okay?” The secretary.

“I’m okay,” Takashi says, righting himself. “I just have a bit of a headache. It…made me dizzy.” He smiles slightly at Adam, but Adam can see the pain in his eyes when he does it. “Thanks, Adam.”

“Do you need your meds?” Adam asks, quietly, not quite letting go even as he lets Shiro straighten up again.

“After the meeting.”

Reluctantly, Adam pulls his hands back Takashi, still not convinced he’ll stay on his feet. It takes him a few beats before he heads back towards his seat, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Takashi the entire time. He manages to stay on his feet for the rest of the meeting, but Adam can see the tension rising through his muscles. Or, perhaps more accurately, he can’t see it. It’s in the way Shiro’s shoulders pull slightly towards his ears, sure, but it’s in other things. 

It’s in the way he stops shifting his weight between his feet when he listens to them talk.

It’s in the way he stops taking notes.

It’s in the way he stops tapping his fingers or adjusting his arms on the podium.

He’s coiling tighter. His answers get shorter, simpler. He pushes himself through but in the last ten minutes Adam is already grabbing the muscle relaxers and pain medicine out of his messenger bag. He twists the cap off of the small bottle of water he keeps with him. 

When the meeting ends with the last bell of the day, he does his best to get everyone to leave quickly so he can turn and help Takashi sit.

“You should’ve taken your medication,” he says, kneeling next to him. “It’s not like they don’t know.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to do it in front of everyone.”

Adam taps the pills out into his palm. “Everyone? It’s only the three of us here.”

“Adam—”

“Take the pills.” 

He helps Takashi tip back the pills and enough water to swallow them. He can still move, but it’s clearly putting him in pain. Once the immediate threat has been dealt with to the best of their ability, Adam pulls over a chair and sits next to him, waiting for them to kick in. He rubs his fingers against the palm of Takashi’s right hand, his thumbs against the top of it.

“Oh! Adam, Takashi!” Mrs. Englehart says, clearly surprised. Adam turns to look at her, taking note one the small stack of copies in her arms. “I thought the two of you would have been out of here by now.”

“We will be,” Adam says. “Just give us a minute.”

“No rush,” she says, smiling. She continues to her desk. 

“We can go.” Takashi starts moving, but Adam squeezes his hand a little. He moves one of his own up to his shoulders, pushing him gently. It’s not like Takashi needs much pressure to stay where he is.

“You just took the medicine five minutes ago,” he chides, quietly. “Just wait.”

He goes back to watching the clock, brushing his thumbs over Takashi’s wrist now that he’s pretty sure he won’t go rushing off on him. Mrs. Englehart is quiet for so long that Adam’s actually surprised. He thinks they might sit through the next ten minutes without a conversation, but she’s always been the sort to fill the space.

“Oh! Takashi,” she says. “Mr. Spicker wanted me to tell you thank you for helping him get all those copies made yesterday.”

Tension curls along the back of Adam’s neck, but he keeps his eyes on the clock. He can already feel the slight friction of his canines pressing together. 

“He didn’t think you’d have the time after helping me move my old textbooks down to the dumpster,” she continues. “I hope you didn’t get home too late?”

His molars press together, and he slides his jaw just enough to feel them grind.

“It wasn’t that late, Mrs. Englehart. Just glad I could help.”

And grind.

“I don’t know how you could stay so late and make it to the student-faculty meeting this morning. Wasn’t it Tessa’s turn today?”

“She had to get her little brothers to school,” Takashi explains, his voice sounding less tight. “So I told her I didn’t mind.”

And _grind._

“Adam?”

_And grind._

“Adam?” 

Takashi squeezes his hand and he startles a bit from what he was doing, turning to look at him. He’s sitting up rather than partially leaning back against his chair like he can’t get his back to curl. His arm muscles have relaxed enough to let him bend them, to squeeze his hand, without putting himself in excruciating pain.

Takashi smiles, but Adam knows that he’s not an idiot. Adam knows he can tell that he’s mad. Good. He wasn’t trying to hide it.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, letting go of Takashi’s hand to pick up his bag and sling it over his shoulder. “You?”

Takashi grabs his bag and they say their good-byes to Mrs. Englehart as they head into the hallway and for the stairs.

“You stayed late last night,” Adam says, the words swelling out of his mouth and past his lips before he can stop them. 

“Adam,” he sighs. “Don’t start this again, _please._ ”

“You told me you were going home after school, and you stayed late.” He jogs down the steps, waiting on the middle platform so he can look back up at Takashi again. One hand curls tight around the strap of his bag while the other hangs at his side.

“I was going home, but I stopped to say good night and—”

“And _what,_ Takashi? She threw herself at you crying about her textbooks and you just couldn’t walk away?”

Takashi stops a few steps above him, frowning. He was holding on to the guardrail bit he drops his hand to his side.

“What’s the matter with you?” He asks, and Adam can’t stop the brief gust of disbelieving laughter.

“What’s the matter with _me?_ ” He looks up at him. “What are you _doing,_ Takashi? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m not trying to prove anything—”

“Oh, you’re not?”

“ _No,_ Adam. I just—I’m trying to _help_ people.”

“By taking on _everything_ by yourself?” He asks, walking over to the other edge of the platform just to put some distance between them. Takashi takes the last few steps down to where he is. “I thought you said you were going to take it easy from now on.”

“I am!” Takashi says, not quite raising his voice but there’s some intensity in it.

Adam turns, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. It pumps a volatile cocktail of anger and frustrated confusion through his veins and into his body. “Inviting me over to watch movies for _one night_ and then _immediately_ throwing yourself back on everyone else’s work isn’t taking it easy. You’re doing too much for _anyone_ to handle, Takashi, let alone—”

Takashi’s voice is suddenly hard. “Let alone _what?_ ”

Adam raises his eyes, curling his fingers into his palms, but he doesn’t answer.

“Let alone a _sick person?_ ”

“You know that’s not how I mean it—”

Takashi squares his shoulders and that horrendous, ugly feeling rises in Adam. He can barely choke it down. “Isn’t it, though?”

“ _No._ Stop trying to make me the bad guy for caring about your well-being!” He doesn’t mean to raise his voice but he does. He forces it back down again, but the fight—this fight with Takashi and the fight to say what he means and not be misread—it’s pulling him too tight. 

“You never had a problem with me taking on a little extra work before I was _sick,_ Adam. So what’s changed?”

“You never took on _this_ much work before!”

“Then just _back off,_ Adam! I can handle it!” Despite the fact he raised his voice with Takashi, Takashi doesn’t raise his voice with him. But he doesn’t have to. Knives aren’t loud when they sink between ribs for a fatal blow. 

Adam grinds his teeth, reaching for his bag and yanking up the flap. “You want me to back off? _Fine._ ” He walks over to grab Takashi’s wrist, pushing the two bottles of pills into his hand and backing off. Takashi, at least, looks shocked. “You want to drive yourself to an early grave, Takashi, then do it. But I’m not going to stand here and _watch._ ”

He turns to jog down the last few stairs without looking back, because he already knows he’s going to spend the whole night trying to get Takashi’s face out of his head. Trying to forget how the color drained from his face and eyes as soon as the words ‘ _early grave_ ’ lunged from his lips into the air.

—

The end of the year is already upon them, with only one more week left. Though the air conditioning does wonders to keep the heat at bay, Adam can hear cicadas outside and those herald a pretty intense heat. Something about them just makes him think of summer.

He taps his pen on the edge of his paper as the teacher goes on about the short story they’re wrapping up the year on. He read it, of course, and he’s done all of the assignments. The notebook in front of him, though, isn’t his notebook for his class. Or, well, it is, but he has a smaller one folded on top that’s just the notebook he carries with him for personal thoughts. He flicks his eyes back to it and darkens the dot under the last question mark he wrote in. This page is full of questions with a line skipped in between each one.

He’s trying to listen to the teacher but his thoughts are elsewhere. He’d like to keep them headed towards happy things, but every time his mind ends up drifting back towards Takashi’s pale face as he walked away from him.

It’s only been a few days, but they didn’t talk for the whole weekend. They spent the first half of the week avoiding each other. Adam isn’t even really sure Takashi was _avoiding_ him so much as just keeping himself _too busy_ for them to run into each other. The meeting they had last week was their last one of the years, to there isn’t even that going for them. He hasn’t seen him in the study halls at the end of the day, either.

He has science left to go, but the teacher just has them finishing up a film about genetics in the future along with those worksheets that ask questions along with the movie. The sound of other people shuffling around makes him glance at the clock. He didn’t even realize the bell is about to ring.

Leaning over the side of his desk to arrange his notebooks, he doesn’t notice the office aid coming into the room to hand something to the teacher.

“Adam.” He sits up, pulling his bag onto his lap, and looks up. “You’re getting picked up.”

He knits his brow. “After school?”

“No, early.” Then, realizing how strange that sounds, the teacher corrects himself. “Right now, I mean. Head down to the office.”

Someone mutters ‘lucky’ and a few other people set about whispering and eyeing him. He pulls the strap of his bag over his head and takes the offered yellow-slip summons as he heads out of the door. He walks a little quick, since he wants to get as close to the office as he can before the bell rings, but he takes his phone out once he reaches the first floor.

No new texts or voicemails. One missed call.

_Takashi’s dad?_

His heart nudges its way up into his throat and he slides his phone back into his pocket. Takashi is in school today. He saw him heading away from the cafeteria and towards the library around lunchtime, he just hadn’t said anything to him. He hadn’t yet figured out anything to say, and when he talked to him again he wanted it to be—

Well, he doesn’t know.

Better than last time, he guesses. Though the bar is pretty low.

As he rounds the hallway that leads to the office he finds himself hoping that it’s just one of his parents. A doctor’s appointment he forgot about? The dentist? 

He almost chokes when he sees Mr. Shirogane standing there, looking out of the glass at him. He freezes, watching through eyes that feel too wide as Mr. Shriogane points at him, says something to one of the secretaries, and heads out of the office.

“Adam—”

“What’s going on?” He asks. Mr. Shirogane’s hand feels too big on his back. Though his legs are moving, he’s being pushed along like snow in front of a plow. 

“Takashi collapsed in one of his classes.” Mr. Shirogane sounds out of breath, like he’d been running. Had he been running? Why was he running? “He’s at the hospital with his mother. I asked your parents if they would mind if I took you out of school a little early.”

Though he only somewhat hears the words, he’s glad that Mr. Shirogane keeps talking. Something about his voice constantly going makes it easier to remember to move his feet as they hurry out to his car. 

Mrs. Shirogane calls while they’re in the car to tell them that Takashi woke up in the ambulance a bit disoriented but generally okay. He’s dehydrated, and he hit his head when he fell, but the damage doesn’t seem to be serious. The doctor is waiting for them to get there, although Adam knows that she’s really just waiting for Mr. Shirogane. Still, that doesn’t stop him from practically throwing himself out of the car when they get there.

He doesn’t know why. He can’t _go_ anywhere without Mr. Shirogane, who keeps his hands a little too tight on Adam’s shoulders as he steers him towards Takashi’s room. Mrs. Shirogane gave them the number and the directions on the phone.

It’s a long room with a few other beds split up by dividers. Takashi’s dividers are pulled back, though, enough that they can look in at him when they get there. Adam sees him first and his stomach drops at how dazed he looks, just staring at nothing at the end of his bed. 

_He hit his head,_ Mrs. Shirogane’s voice pops into his head, unbidden, and he can’t quite crush it out through the mental grate fast enough.

“Takashi…” He breathes, not even realizing he was out of breath until right here. Right now. 

Takashi looks up and the dazed, almost vacant look in his eyes flickers and disappears as they widen. Then a million things surface in his gaze and Adam sees the half-aborted gesture of his hand raising towards him. There’s an IV in the back of it.

“ _Adam._ ” 

He sounds small and lost and maybe that’s a culmination of all the swirling things in his gray eyes, or maybe that’s just the only thing left for him to use.

Adam half-runs, half-jogs up to the side of his bed. He throws himself a little too hard into sitting on the edge of the bed, but he doesn’t feel Takashi under where he landed awkwardly. He doesn’t care about the slight discomfort in his hip or anything. He just wraps his arms around him almost as fast as Takashi’s arms wrap around him. He can feel his fingers scratch against his back, through his shirt, as he grips at him.

“I’m sorry,” Adam says into the bend of Takashi’s neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was too hard—”

“No, you were right,” Takashi cuts him off, which isn’t something he often does, but Adam couldn’t be more grateful for it now and he doesn’t even know why. “You were right. I was pushing myself too hard. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Takashi’s fingers dig living pain into his back even through the fabric of his T-shirt, holding hard onto him and he thinks he could become a masochist for it. For the desperate sting that tells him that Takashi’s still alive, still okay, still _here._ He could live and breathe for the nails digging into his back as Takashi tries to push his face into his shoulder. “What happened?”

“It sounds like overwork,” Mrs. Shirogane says, and Adam looks over to see her hand on Takashi’s thigh. She gives it a squeeze and gives Adam a smile that almost looks right. But hospitals and fear always make people look older and more _wrong_ than they really are. “He was dehydrated and exhausted. They’re going to keep him over night just to be safe, because he hit his head, but it doesn’t seem like he has a concussion.”

It’s then that he realizes he can feel the soft, not-quite-right sensation of gauze against his cheek. How had he missed that being wrapped around Takashi’s head? He doesn’t know. He just nods, because there aren’t words he has to give her.

Adam lets out a breath and squeezes him, running his hand across his back. “That’s good. It’s got nothing to do with you being sick. Just you being stubborn.”

Takashi laughs a little bit, but it sounds a little wet in his throat so Adam squeezes him tighter and holds him that way. He holds him hard until Takashi relaxes, easing himself back to where the bed set at an incline for him. He keeps Adam’s hand, or Adam keeps his. It doesn’t really matter, except that he doesn’t go far.

“Thanks for coming,” Takashi breathes, wiping at his eyes. 

Adam smiles a bit and reaches over to help. “No problem. I mean, your dad _did_ come to get me.”

Takashi nods a bit, looking up at Mr. Shirogane when he puts a hand on his shoulder and Adam sees the shirt compress under his fingers a bit. Takashi lets out a shaky breath. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course, Takashi.”

Adam holds one of Takashi’s hands, sandwiched between his own, as Mrs. Shirogane explains that the doctor will be here soon and he might not be able to stay. He doesn’t care. He’s glad that he got to see that Takashi is okay. Most parents wouldn’t have thought of him, he knows. It’s because he and Takashi have been together for so long that he even came to mind, not just as partners but as friends. Maybe it struck them as odd that he hadn’t somehow managed to force himself into the ambulance.

He finds the thought a bit flattering.

Takashi leans back and rests at some point, but Adam watches the steady rise and fall of his chest all the way up until the doctor comes in.

“Oh, I didn’t realize there was someone else in here,” she says, and smiles. It’s a weird sort of smile. The kind that says that she might start talking to him like he’s much younger than he is because she doesn’t know how else to talk to him. “And you are?”

“Adam Wohali,” he says. “I’m Takashi’s partner.”

That seems to surprise her. It surprises a lot of adults when they say that, but Takashi squeezes his hand and smiles a bit which makes it all worth it.

“I see,” she replies, and there’s that tone that he was expecting. The one adults used to use with him when he used a word they thought was too big or mature for his vocabulary. As though children are naturally stupid until an adult says otherwise. “Well, unless the two of you are married, I’m afraid I need you to step outside while I talk to Takashi and his parents.”

Adam nods. “Sure.”

He looks at Takashi, but he seems okay now. Comforted, he picks up his bag and slings it over his shoulder, doing it all with one hand so he doesn’t have to totally let go of him right away. “I’ll be right outside, okay?”

Takashi nods and he heads for the door.

He’s most of the way there when he stops, looking back at the doctor. “Excuse me.”

“Hm?” She turns in her chair back towards him, raising her eyebrows.

“Can I ask you a question about Takashi’s illness?”

Her eyebrows lower again and she shakes her head. “I’m afraid not. You could ask me some general questions about the disease itself, but anything relating to Takashi’s particular symptoms or development would fall under doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“Even if I told him anyway?” Takashi asks.

“Yep.” She’s using that tone again. The ‘kiddo’ tone, Adam thinks of it as. Like she wants to add ‘kiddo’ to the end of her sentences but realizes, at the last minute, that they aren’t _children_ children. They’re teenagers. “You can tell anyone you like about anything, but I can get in trouble for it.”

“That’s alright,” Adam says, reaching into his bag. He pulls out the small, personal notebook at the top of the pile and flips through it as he walks back to Takashi’s bedside. “Here.”

Takashi scans the page, then the next one, for a moment confused before he laughs. “Okay.”

“I’ll be outside.”

He raises a hand in parting as he heads back through the long, empty room to the hallway and then to the vending machines.

—

When the doctor emerges, it’s much later than it probably would need to be for a routine evaluation and check in. She’s got both of Takashi’s parents with her, though it doesn’t look like the conversation is all that _grave._ That makes him relax.

Adam stands up from the chairs in the hallway and manages to catch Mr. Shirogane’s eye just before he waves for him to go ahead in. He nods and ducks inside, fighting down the slight itch in his leg to jog down the room to Takashi’s bed. He manages to make it at a brisk pace without actually doing anything that would probably get him scolded.

Takashi is sitting up when he gets there, holding the now closed notebook in his lap.

“Everything go okay?” Adam asks, taking up his spot on the side of the bed again.

“Yeah.” Takashi holds out the notebook for him to take. 

Adam takes it, but puts it back in his bag and sets his bag on the floor next to the bed. He scoots up to sit beside Takashi, wrapping an arm across his shoulders so he can pull him to rest on his shoulder a little. Takashi yawns, and their hands find each other on top of his heavy-but-not-soft hospital blanket.

“You know, when I was diagnosed,” Takashi starts, quietly. “I couldn’t think of any questions to ask. I just…felt like my mind went totally empty. Then, any time I tried to think about it again, I just talked myself out of it. I told myself it wasn’t that big of a deal, and I would just learn as I went. Or it would…”

“…go away?” Adam suggests, tentatively. He watches Takashi’s feet move a little under the blanket and feels him nod against his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Takashi sighs, heavily. “Go away.”

“I figured it was something like that,” Adam agrees, rubbing his thumb over his hand. “That’s why I started coming up with questions. I only started writing them down when you didn’t seem like you wanted to answer them.”

“Just thought you’d track down a random doctor?” Takashi asks, lightly. The humor in his voice is warm and sends an aftershock of relief through his body. Enough that he chuckles a little.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he answers, pinching his shoulder a little. “Or I’d just have to wait until we got married and then use spousal privilege to ask.”

Takashi’s head presses into his shoulder a bit as he tips his chin up to look at him. “That’s a pretty long wait.”

Adam shrugs, but smiles back. Perhaps a bit smug. “We’ve got time.”

“Even with my mood swings?” Takashi raises a brow, attempting to show some displeasure but mostly Adam sees the light in his gray eyes.

He raises a brow back. “Oh, you liked that one, did you?”

“One of the best questions you came up with. I like how it was the _last one_ you wrote.”

Adam laughs. “We’ve never had a big fight before!”

“So you think a problem with my _muscles_ will lead to _mood swings?_ ” Takashi laughs.

“I’m not a doctor. I figured I may as well ask.”

“Better safe than sorry?”

“Better safe than sorry,” Adam agrees, grinning at him. 

He waits for Takashi to get his laughter under control, though he thinks they’re both laughing at far more than his silly mood-swing question. They’re laughing at more than some thrown-out discard theory that he needed to consider just briefly as a reason for why his boyfriend was acting like someone not quite himself. It’s more relief than humor, but the best kind of relief is the kind that drives one to hysterics.

When they calm down and breathe, Adam turns his head to press his face against the crown of Takashi’s head and gives his hand a squeeze. He closes his eyes and breathes him in as Takashi moves, subtle and slow, against his chest from the weight of his lungs pulling and pushing oxygen. They don’t breathe in sync. Their pulses aren’t in time. Takashi’s shoulder digs into his ribs a little in a way that might become uncomfortable. But the inconsistencies are what it means to be here.

Both of them, alive and here.


End file.
